Both James and Connell had told Lucy she hadn’t changed, which she knew wasn’t entirely true. She was an older, softer version of the girl they’d known – still recognisable, though. The basic components were pretty much the same. But Nina Kerridge looked so startlingly different that Lucy wouldn’t have recognised her at all.
‘So good to see you,’ she said, hugging Lucy in her expansive corner office – the one MC had commandeered – and standing back and beaming at her.
‘You too,’ Lucy said, fascinated by the smoothness of her forehead, the plumpness of her lips; once brunette, now ash blonde, she appeared to be a different creature entirely. Even her teeth had been done, Lucy noticed. They beamed brightly, Tipp-ex white. ‘It looked as if I might not make it,’ she added. ‘With the snow, I mean. But the roads are just about cleared …’
‘That’s good,’ Nina said, obviously disinterested in the weather conditions. ‘Would you like a coffee? Tea? Please, have a seat.’
Lucy sat down. ‘Coffee please.’
Nina’s manner had changed too. While she had always exuded confidence, now her assuredness had ramped up several levels. Nina was clearly a woman who liked to get things done. With a nod and wave, she communicated with someone through the glass wall in the main office. As they were still in that no man’s land between Christmas and New Year, few staff were around. Lucy was slightly relieved that none of her friends appeared to be here today. The last thing she wanted was to catch Andrew or Nadeen’s eye while she was here in Nina’s office. She hadn’t even told them she was coming today; she had wanted to keep it low-key, and would fill them in later.
‘So, I’ll get straight to the point,’ Nina said, leaning back in her chair as a young woman brought in a tray of coffees, ‘about the new direction we’re taking.’
Lucy nodded. She was interested in the yoga and sleepwear collections that Andrew had mentioned, and was keen to hear it from the boss.
‘Bottoms are the new boobs,’ Nina announced, pausing as if to gauge her reaction.
‘I’m sorry?’ Lucy frowned.
Nina grinned, baring those big white teeth at her. ‘You know how in beauty, eyes are the new lips? You must have read that.’
‘Oh yes. To be honest, I always find that idea of something-being-the-new-something really confusing.’
‘Well, it’s all about emphasis and priorities.’
Lucy nodded. ‘So our customers – I mean, Claudine’s customers – are prioritising their bottoms now?’
‘Not exactly,’ Nina said, ‘but, you know, the last few years have been about the new bra – the bralette – and the trend’s been about softness, hasn’t it? Less structure, a friendlier wear.’
‘Yes, of course.’ Lucy knew all about that.
‘Well, now we’re looking at the same kind of idea, but for knickers.’
‘The knickerlette?’
Nina laughed. ‘More of a soft, hugging pant.’
‘But isn’t that what all pants are like? Good pants, I mean. The pants most women prefer to wear.’ She heard herself saying ‘pants’ repeatedly and felt faintly ridiculous.
‘Exactly. Forget thongs, boy shorts – even briefs. We’re going all out to focus on the comfy pant, the pant that loves your bottom.’
‘D’you mean big pants?’ Lucy asked hesitantly.
Nina beamed. ‘Yes! We want to give women permission to wear big pants.’
‘I’ve never needed permission,’ Lucy said with a smile. ‘I’ve worn them for years.’
‘Oh, me too – but always with slight embarrassment, you know? The what-if-I’m-knocked-down-by-a-bus kind of thing and I’m found wearing giant monstrosities.’ Lucy nodded, although she had never had such concerns herself. ‘So what we’re doing,’ Nina continued, ‘is making the big pant a gorgeous, sexy item. It’ll be a new brand – still under the Claudine umbrella of course, but with its own unique identity.’ She fixed her with a blue-eyed stare. ‘And we’d love you to head that up.’
Lucy hesitated. ‘Head up the big pant?’
She laughed. ‘You could put it that way.’
‘What would the role be exactly? You know I was head buyer, and you mentioned it would be more of a second-in-charge to you …’
‘You’d take full control of the brand, really,’ Nina said, as if it was obvious. ‘It would be your baby for the duration of the contract, then we could see how the pants are performing.’
Without warning, Lucy was seized by a desire to laugh. As Nina went on, enthusing wildly about the scope and potential of the big pant, Lucy tried to focus hard on non-funny things – like Aunt Elspeth’s dry panettone, and the time the children had nits. In an attempt to rein in her mirth, she choked.
‘Are you okay?’ Nina lurched forward.
‘Yes, sorry. Just, um – something in my throat.’ She inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself.
Nina’s gaze flicked to her phone on the desk. ‘Right – well, I have a two o’clock meeting so I’m sorry – we’d better wind this up for now. Could you think it over and get back to me, and we can talk again in more depth?’
‘Of course,’ Lucy said, slightly shocked that it was all over so quickly. She’d arranged for Marnie and Sam to play at Jodie’s and schlepped all the way to Manchester – and Nina had given her all of eleven minutes. Lucy had forgotten that this was how things were in the business world. She hadn’t even finished her coffee.
‘Thanks for coming in,’ Nina said, jumping up and hugging her again. ‘I have to say, you look amazing, Lucy. Country life is obviously suiting you very well.’
By the time she arrived back in Burley Bridge, it was already starting to get dark, and Marnie and Sam were happily worn out from an afternoon’s trampolining in Jodie’s garden. Yet they still wanted to play out, so she wandered into her garden with them, scanning the borders now that the snow had somewhat melted away, and figuring that she would need to do some cutting back and tidying.
She noticed then that something was different. Her eyes lighted upon the place where the shed had been crushed by the falling branch.
Lucy stared. The pile of wooden pieces was no longer lying there. She strode towards the spot, seeing that the base of the shed was still where it had always been, but all of the pieces – the broken walls and the roof, had been stacked neatly against one wall. Beside them, something lumpy was shrouded in black polythene.
She lifted it gingerly. There were several plant pots underneath, filled with what looked like the shed’s contents: small tools, screws, spools of wire – the things Ivan and the children had used when they had been tinkering about in there.
Someone had sorted it all in an organised fashion. One pot was filled with tiny tins of enamel paint, another with brushes, another with offcuts of wood. The children hadn’t noticed yet. They were too busy playing – Marnie was charging about with Sam on her back – and they never noticed when things had been tidied anyway. Only when their possessions had been thrown away.
Then Lucy’s gaze lighted upon a smaller pot at the end of the row. Its contents weren’t tools or art materials, but a mixture of odd things. She dipped in a hand and touched a round white pebble, a speckled feather, a gnarly pine cone and a tiny animal skull. There was a pale blue bird’s egg, miraculously undamaged, and a thin white bone, smooth as porcelain.
She picked carefully through the objects, only faintly aware of her children’s voices as she found a small note. She picked it up and examined it. It looked as if it had been ripped from a lined notebook. Found these lying all together, the loopy but neat handwriting read, as if they’d been tipped out onto the ground. Wondered if it was some sort of collection? James.
She stood up now, unable to stop smiling as she called out, ‘Sam? Come here a minute, love. I think this might be your museum.’